


Gravity versus Air Resistance

by wickersnap



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Humor, Jango has no time for your shit, Multi, Obi-Wan is two seconds away from adopting the whole 212th and no one can stop him when he does, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The First Battle of Geonosis, anakin is less pushy, because I can't quite account for everyone everyone, but only slightly - Freeform, everyone say thanks Jango, now with more chapters!, or at least she isn't stuck with him, padmé deserves better than him so she gets it, this is just a geonosis rewrite where Jango decides he'd rather kiss Kenobi than kill the Jedi, this really turned into a Jango fixes the Prequels huh, very selfish I know, you know?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickersnap/pseuds/wickersnap
Summary: The War to End the Sith begins on Geonosis.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Anakin Skywalker, CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dogma & Jango Fett, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 71
Kudos: 532





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No clue what prompted this, but we're vibing.  
> Working title was Jango on the rocks because I can't name things for shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 now remastered to HOPEFULLY actually be readable - jesus what a horrific drone of samey sentence structure it was :/ fingers crossed I fixed it, my attention span has been absolutely shot recently!

It begins when Anakin runs into them on a working conveyor belt in the middle of a battle droid manufacturing plant, under numerous crawling insectoid hives, carved out under the surface of a planet called Geonosis, which is a little bit of a mouthful.

Actually, that almost certainly isn’t where it begins, because it began a long, long time ago, before Kamino, before Tatooine and Naboo and the Trade Federation, before Galidraan, the Old Republic, the Sith Empire, and possibly before the events known to come just after the beginning of time. So really, it began a long-ass time ago, but that’s even more of a mouthful, and for the sake of his sanity, he’s going to cut to the chase.

The War to End the Sith begins on Geonosis.

He’s in the middle of ducking the next metal-press when he almost crashes head-long into them. He stumbles and nearly falls back underneath the machinery as he tries to counteract the current of the conveyor, but a very lucky pair of very familiar hands is there just in time to catch him.

“Master!” he cries, at the same time as Obi-Wan shouts, “Anakin!” in a similar fashion over the din of the factory. Anakin looks from his Master’s disheveled state to the stranger in shiny silver armour and beside him—while the helmet obscures his face, Anakin retains enough awareness in the Force to assume him suspicious and adopt an appropriate frown.

“What in the Force’s name are you  _ doing _ here?” Obi-Wan demands. “Your job was to protect the Senator! Don’t tell me you led her into this chaos!”

“We’re here to rescue you!” Anakin protests. “If I hadn’t gone with her, Master, she’d have left me behind!”

“Well you’ve done a great job!” Obi-Wan admonishes. 

Anakin rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the armoured figure walking casually against the flow. “Who’s this?”

“His name is Jango Fett!” says Obi-Wan. “I have reason to believe him to be the one to send the assassin after Senator Amidala—”

_ “What?!” _

“—and he freed me from the cell Dooku had me in. Cells we’re all bound to be reintroduced to if we don’t get a move on!”

“If he tried to kill Padmé, then why the hell did he save  _ you?” _ Anakin asks, bewildered.

Obi-Wan glances to Fett, who somehow manages to convey  _ your problem _ with only a turn of his head. “We, ah, reached an agreement before either of us left Kamino.”

“An agreement? What the—Master, when did you have time? How—” Anakin stops short when his eyes, roaming over his Master in search of injury, land on a trail of suspicious bruises above the collar of his robes. “Never mind, I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to know.”

“Smart kid,” says Fett’s slightly disembodied voice through his helmet. Anakin wants to bristle at the lack of sincerity in his voice, at the clear leading condescension and mockery, but before he can even begin to retort a sharp, shrill cry pitches over the catastrophic racket of the factory.

_ “Padmé!” _ he yells, looking anxiously in every direction. There’s a screech of shearing metal, another yell, and one booming thud later, all three of them are looking down at the Senator’s rolling escape of a downed crucible several levels below straight into the hands (and weapons) of a dozen Geonosian guards.

“Blast,” Obi-Wan says. He looks up and frowns. “Might I ask where your lightsaber is, Padawan?”

Anakin grimaces as his hand meets empty air at the clasp on his belt. “It got crushed.”

“How many times have I  _ told _ you—”

“I know, Master! It wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Don’t argue with your dad, kid,” Fett says. “You’re going to have to act fast if you want to see any of us leave here alive.”

“He’s  _ not _ my—”

_ “Anakin!” _

And of course—because who the hells else would it happen to—the Geonosians choose that moment to descend around them in droves. Obi-Wan has his lightsaber out and Fett has gone for his blasters though both are at a disadvantage on a moving platform, but they’re all very narrowly escaping prodding with some very sharp-ended spears. One of them nearest Anakin buzzes and clicks furiously. 

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Obi-Wan asks Fett in an undertone.

“That we’re forfeiting the Senator’s life if we don’t come quietly,” Fett answers, cool as can be. “At least, that’s what I’d do.”

“How very reassuring,” Obi-Wan sighs. Anakin, for once, is in agreement.

Dooku allows Padmé to say her part, even though they all know he has no intention of acquiescing to any of her demands. He doesn’t let Obi-Wan argue at all, monologuing over him in a very self-important manner that makes Anakin really want to take his head off. The most he even acknowledges Anakin himself is a curled lip and a disgust he doesn’t bother to conceal, and Fett… Fett, out of his helmet and still just as intimidating, he looks upon with pity.

“You were a good ally, Jango.” He circles them, looking on in wholly false sorrow. “Your contribution to our work here has been invaluable. It really will be a shame to have you killed, and to orphan that poor boy of yours… Even if he is merely a copy.”

“Boba is my  _ son, _ and you will not have him!” Fett snarls, wrenching against his heavy chain bindings in what seems to be an effort to knock Dooku’s teeth in with his forehead. He grunts in protest when the chittering insects holding him pull him back and stick the ends of their pikes either side of his neck, and continues in a lower, more dangerous tone. “You don’t want to be doing this.”

At Anakin’s side, Obi-Wan takes a sharp breath. Anakin frowns at him, but there is no surprise on his face, just the grim-set line of his mouth that speaks of confirmation of suspicions already had.

“Oh, probably not, Jango Fett,” Dooku preens. “But no one is coming to your aid here. Not for a man who abandoned his people.”

Fett yells through gritted teeth when one of the—oh,  _ electrified _ —prods is jabbed into his gut between his armour plates.

Dooku watches with a disinterested gaze as all four of them glare up at him. 

“Take them away. Do with them what you will.”

Of course, because of bloody  _ course, _ the Geonosians bay for their execution. Today has really not been their day. At least bug-faced Archduke Pissy Minor or whoever looks like he’s having fun. 

Bastard. 

Anakin is left chained to the executioner's chariot, staring out at the colour-dull arena visible at the end of the short, shadowed tunnel. He can see Obi-Wan and Fett far away in the middle of it, chained by their wrists to two of four very tall stone columns. The Geonosians may have taken their weapons, but they’re arrogant enough to have left Fett in his armour—Anakin hopes that’ll come back to bite them soon. If they survive.

When the insects bring Padmé kicking and spitting from her cell, he can’t help but be just a little happy to see her. He feels instantly guilty, of course, because dear stars he wants her far,  _ far _ away from this place and all its ancient barbarisms, but… Just to know she’s near… It soothes him.

Only once she is secured beside him on the cart does he allow the tension to bleed from his shoulders.

“Don’t be afraid,” he tells her, and she laughs shortly. Humourlessly.

“I’m not afraid to die,” she says. “In fact, I feel like I’ve just been wandering from assassination to assassination all my life.”

Anakin blinks. Looks down at her. “I—sorry? All the time?”

Padmé’s lips twitch upwards as she gazes out into the field of reddish sand. “Not  _ all _ the time, Ani, but near enough.”

Anakin stares at her for a number of long moments, casting around for something, anything to say.

“I do love you, Padmé,” he finally settles on, voice strained. “More than anything. But if… If it’s really what’s best, I won’t ever speak of it again.”

Padmé smiles sadly and turns to look at him, her eyes tracing over his features in a longing and desperate manner. He can feel her dread and anxiety rolling off her into the Force. Her fingers reach across to twine softly, delicately with his.

Below their feet the cart is jolted into action. The creature at its harness treads steadily forward, pulling them towards the light of the desert sun reflecting off the bleached stone colosseum. Anakin doesn’t care for it, barely registers it, even, beyond the warm rush he feels under her gaze. He was right, of course; Padmé  _ is _ everything soft and sweet as she remains determined and intimidating in a very important way. She is a queen, a leader, a diplomat, and a fighter, and Anakin  _ adores _ her. He’ll do anything for her, even if it means staying all the way on the other side of the galaxy from her. 

Even if it tears him apart.

He’ll get over it, one day.

They break apart slowly as the light washes over their damp-chilled skin. Padmé shares a hundred unspoken regrets, apologies, and desires with one last lingering look, their heads still bowed together until their attention can no longer be drawn away from the scene in front of them.

“I’m beginning to think you misunderstand the word ‘rescue,’” Obi-Wan gripes at him as the chariot is stopped and the guards begin yanking them towards their funeral monuments. Faintly, he can hear Fett snort through his helmet.

“Did you even try to escape?” the mandalorian leers.

“I could ask the same of you,” Anakin snaps back. Though the amusement rolling off Fett’s shoulders is irritating at best, Anakin is not at all gratified when it freezes to ice-cold fear at the sound of a piercing, childish scream that cuts through the buzzing of the crowd.

_ “BUIR!” _

_ “BOBA!” _ Fett yells, straining against his chains, and begins cursing in his own language. Anakin regrets, now, not taking his Master up on his offer to learn it. The chariot pulls away once Padmé is secured to the last column on Anakin’s other side. Past Fett, however, he can see Obi-Wan straining to shout over the noise.

“Jango, you must calm down!” it seems like he’s saying. “Boba won’t be harmed, you need to focus on getting  _ out _ to go to him!”

“Er, Master!” Anakin calls. Around them, the grates over four other leading tunnels are being raised to make way for snapping, snarling, savagely-hungry beasts. “We need a plan!”

“Trust in the Force, Anakin!

“But what about Padmé!?”

There’s a slight pause in which all three of them lean to look over Anakin’s strung shoulders, following Padmé as she clambers to the top of her column. 

“Well, she seems to be on top of things!”

Fett mutters something very likely unflattering about  _ Jetiise _ before grunting and hoisting his body up by his wrists. Anakin watches the approaching red-backed reek, apparently selected for him, with rising anticipation. From somewhere above and to his right, Padmé yelps.

“What the hell is  _ that!” _

On the far left is a furious acklay advancing on Obi-Wan. On the far right, a nexu like the ones patrolling Malastare. In front of Fett, kept in line by much stricter Geonosian guards, is some dark grey, fuzzy creature with long, triangular ears, large-toed paws, glittering black eyes and a huge, sharp-toothed rabid maw.

Fett shouts something that sounds like ‘Drackacks!’ around the vibroblade hilt now in his mouth, but that could otherwise be another word in Mando’a that Anakin doesn’t know. He doesn’t really have the time to think about it, either, because the reek is bowing its head and readying to charge right for him.

Admittedly, when Anakin leaps astride and wraps his chains, which snap very satisfyingly, around the beast’s tusk, he does not expect to be dragged across the floor of the arena like he is. It’s not that big of a deal. Really, it isn’t, when it finally stops and lets him get up. He just… Needs a moment. Maybe a bath.

Obi-Wan’s column hits the ground with a thunderous boom.

Corralling the Force to his aid is a quick lesson in serenity, in which Anakin turns his back on the others and evens his breathing, reaching out to calm the rage of the poor reek. It doesn’t take much, thankfully, before it’ll let him mount again, swinging the chains from his wrists into its mouth like a crude set of reins. The Geonosian guards come galloping up either side so he spurs the reek into action, dodging their spears and the flailing of the screaming rabbit thing. Fett appears to be acquiring an increasing number of glowing vibroblades with which to threaten it quite effectively.

On the other side of the arena he can hear the acklay’s shrieking howl, and he sets off to rescue Padmé  _ (injured! She’s injured!) _ with the knowledge that his Master has things in-hand. Padmé is just tearing off her remaining binder when Anakin rams into the nexu’s side and hopefully has it down for the count. He squints up at her and tries to nudge the reek closer to the column.

“Jump!” he shouts, and to her credit she does without any protest, so he directs and cushions her landing on the beast’s back with the Force. If he takes any small satisfaction feeling her arms wrap tightly around his waist… well.

Fett and Obi-Wan are back-to-back, stolen Geonosian staffs levelled outwards, being prowled about by both of the remaining hostile creatures. Both are larger and less encumbered than their reek, though Anakin nevertheless charges forward in an attempt to drive them back in a show of force. The rabbit thing is leaving a sluggish, black trail of goopy blood in its wake, splattering to the sand like viscous oil. Two glowing knives glint from where they’re impaled in the thick fur of its neck, and another, well-timed throw lodges a third deep into its gullet. It screams again, hoarsely and wetly, and collapses writhing to the ground until it finally goes still. 

“Nice one,” Obi-Wan tells Fett. Both of them circle around the back of Anakin and Padmé.

Without further warning, the acklay is quickly being lured away and no less than nine destroyers are rolling into the arena to surround them, turrets armed. They advance in small, shuffling steps that unnerve the reek and force Obi-Wan and Fett closer, trapping them.

_ Click, click, click, _ goes the sound of several dozen spiked stands on the sandy rock floor. 

_ Click, click, whir _ as their tiny, deadly laser turrets prime.

And then the hush of the expectant audience explodes into an ear-splitting cacophony, and hundreds of bright, illuminated blades spring to life all around them. Anakin gazes around in relief and elation as the Geonosians take to the skies in escape; they swarm past the new Jedi strike team and forget altogether about the spectacle below, shrieking and crying out in shock. The child on the balcony is shouting for Fett again, leaning precariously over the edge now Dooku’s been forced to let him go.

Hundreds of battle droids spill onto the field amongst the Jedi that descend from the stands. Obi-Wan leaps up onto the back of the reek and offers a hand to Fett, who probably clings for dear life in the little space Anakin knows is left. He doesn’t push the reek faster than necessary when avoiding the droidfire—he doesn’t,  _ really _ —but it’s hardly a surprise when the man disembarks quickly and gracelessly as soon as they reach the Jedi lines. Anakin catches the lightsaber tossed to him by a knight who quickly disappears again into the clash, and he and Obi-Wan slash open their binders.

The first sonic cannon pulse crushes one of the remaining columns and panics the reek. Anakin finds himself, Padmé and Obi-Wan thrown to the floor, though he quickly rolls to his feet and advances on the nearest droids. The next time he turns to look for Padmé she’s clutching a blaster and hauling herself onto the back of a rogue orray, stringing along an empty chariot and scattering the droid army in panic. He runs to meet her and jumps up into the carriage to take out any cheap shots aimed at her back.

Leagues more droids march their way into the arena every moment, and Anakin curses himself for not destroying the factory below when he had the chance. The reek bellows somewhere to his left, drawing his concern, and he turns just in time to see Fett yank Obi-Wan out of its path. It charges after Master Windu instead, and really, he’d be lying if he said the sight wasn’t at least a  _ little _ bit funny. Mace takes off one of its tusks but lets it run rampage through the droid ranks, taking out at least one of the sonic cannons as it goes.

A bolt must hit the orray pulling the chariot, because Anakin finds himself thrown (again) to the ground when the whole thing jolts and tips over. He backs into the cave of the wide-rimmed carriage, joined momentarily by Padmé, and grimaces at the sheer scale of the battle.

“You call  _ this _ a diplomatic solution?” he asks.

“No,” she replies smartly, “I call it aggressive negotiations.”

Anakin grins widely and lunges to deflect the next bolt headed their way. Force, but her smile is beautiful.

There are seventeen of them left on the ground. Seventeen, backed into a closing ring in the middle of the arena. Twelve Jedi, two padawans, Padmé, Fett, and Fett’s bullheaded, loudmouthed, blaster-slinging little boy. There are still hundreds of droids and likely thousands more to come. A moment of deafening silence rings when the droids stand down without any apparent prompting, leaving only the hum of a dozen lightsabers left to fill the air.

“Master Windu!” 

Count Dooku’s voice echoes in the empty colosseum, rising into the skies much like his pesky winged friends.

“You have fought gallantly—worthy of recognition in the archives of the Jedi Order. But now, it is finished. Surrender… and your lives will be spared.”

“We will not become hostages to be bartered, Dooku!” Mace spits.

Dooku gazes down for a long moment, his expression solemn. “Then I am sorry, old friend.”

Metal whirrs and clicks as every droid primes itself for execution. Anakin sweeps his gaze over the dusty legion and spins his lightsaber into an overhead ready stance, sidling as close to Padmé as he dares, while—

“Look!” she says, her head tilted to the golden sky. The hum of a dozen engines becomes apparent in the next moment. Several armed gunships lower rapidly into the ranks of droids, flickering under the interrupted light of the planet’s sun and scoring right through droves of droids at a time with vivid green laser turrets. Blaster fire starts up again in response to concentrated decimation from the transports, drawing attention succinctly away from the trapped Jedi and allowing the ships to form a loose perimeter in the meantime.

Anakin follows Padmé, Obi-Wan and Fett into the closest one, two white plastoid-armoured troopers perched on the edges of the deck and picking off droids with long rifles and incredible accuracy. One signals to the pilot and the transport lifts expertly away from the bloodshed of the arena, out instead over the red sends of this Force-damned wasteland, the skies of which they now share with a whole  _ fleet _ of imposing star destroyers and gunships.

“Well,” Obi-Wan says once they’ve caught their breath. “That was some rescue.”

“Very funny, Master Jedi,” Padmé says, smiling.

“I’m not sure you know what you’ve gotten yourselves into,” Fett grunts. He has his boy, Boba, in his arms, and is holding onto him like he might disappear any second. Apart from a few nods and ‘sir’s, the troops are silent and watchful. The missile belts above their heads tick over and clatter into place. Obi-Wan watches Fett and Boba unreadably. 

“There’ll be time for you to enlighten us later, Jango, once we’re free of this mess.”

Fett snorts. “That’s assuming I’ll stick around.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find  _ something _ to persuade you.”

“Master,” Anakin mumbles,  _ “please.” _

The engines of the transport rev violently as they round a towering spire of rock, coming into view of vast red plains spoked with Confederacy ships and their battalions of fighters.

“Hold on to something!” Obi-Wan warns, just as Padmé and Fett reach for the blast rigging.

“Aim right above the fuel cells!” Anakin shouts to the gunners. The missiles collide with the weaker necks of the hardcell transports just as their gunship rockets past, leaving the silo-like towers to crash to the ground in their wake.

Obi-Wan turns to grin slyly at him from the open bay door. “Good call, my young padawan.”

Anakin glares at his fuming Master. The gunship rocks every which way as the pilot dodges attack after attack from Dooku’s fighters dogging them.

“She would do her duty,” he finally relents, turning away and burning with shame under the irritation and disappointment he can feel seeping through their bond.

Padmé was right.

Anakin catches the Fetts watching them and curls his lip. “Anything to add?”

Fett senior tilts his helmeted head to the side—and  _ oh, _ how utterly infuriating that beskar shielding is—and readjusts Boba on his hip. “Kenobi’s right. She’d probably have slapped you silly if she’d heard that.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Dooku speeds his way into a concealed entrance in the face of one of the nearby canyon walls. A hangar, it turns out, when the gunship finds the short landing pad at the entrance. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Fett and the two troopers sprint inside after him; the explosion of heat and pressure that follows them bodes not at all well for the poor pilots they left behind.

“Guard the entrance!” Fett barks to the troopers. “The Jedi will go after Dooku. We’ll scout the area.”

“Yes, sir!” they both shout, but Anakin is no longer paying them any attention. He can feel Dooku’s presence up ahead, and he wants this bullshit  _ over _ with.

Anakin is thrown backwards into Obi-Wan, and blaster fire erupts from the shadows. The shock of the cold nothingness where his arm used to be is overwhelming, consuming all of his feeble remaining attention, so it’s not unfair to say he doesn’t remember any of the fight after that.

“Anakin!” Padmé exclaims. “Obi-Wan!”

Jolted by his Master’s movements, Anakin struggles to his feet, nearly collapsing onto his face when he tries to lean weight onto a hand that is no longer there. He catches himself, though not in time to hold back his embarrassing yelp of surprise, and staggers forward to meet her.

“Kenobi,” says Fett, limping towards them from closer by. Boba runs to prop up his side and help him towards the medic that rushes in and begins shouting orders into his comm.

“Padmé,” Anakin murmurs quietly. He smiles down at her, even though he knows he’s doing a bad job of keeping the pain at bay and out of his expression. She hugs him carefully as he lays a light hand on her waist. Force, the scratches along her back must be horrifically sandy by now.

“Lucky, we are, that Dooku left you both alive,” croaks Yoda as he hobbles towards them.

Obi-Wan strains to smile, now supporting Fett as much as Fett is supporting him. “Master Yoda,” he says, “I thought there was no such thing as luck.”

“Hmm,” replies Yoda. “With us all, today, the Force was, even if celebrating victories all of us are not.”

“He got away,” Anakin feels the need to point out.

Yoda taps his gimmer stick impatiently against the hangar floor. “Your concern, Padawan Skywalker, this is not. See the healers, you will, and return to us then. For now, many questions do we have for you, Jango Fett.”

Even without the rush of static from the modulators in his helmet, the prominent rise and fall of his chestplate gives away Fett’s heavy sigh. The medic tending his arm makes disapproving noises.

“Really, Master, you’re bringing him  _ home _ with us?” Anakin asks. The bruises are still visible where Obi-Wan’s robes have come slightly undone. “A-A bounty hunter?”

Obi-Wan levels him with a dry, tired look. “Anakin, do  _ try _ to see the bigger picture here.”

Next to him, half-hidden by his father’s legs, Boba giggles quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rabbit thing is called a draagax, [please check it out](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Draagax), it actually set me _off_ when I first saw it idk why it's so funny to me  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back, not quite by popular demand, but because I've lost control of my life. Cody is now a big brother to two (2) more menaces than he thought he'd been signed up for.

“I take it Boba is off with your brat again.”

Obi-Wan hums, flicking his gaze up to where Jango’s leaning on the frame of his bedroom door, casual-as-can-be.

“You could at least call him by name.”

“Maybe when he stops trying to kill me via glare.” 

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Cody went with them. They won’t have killed each other yet.” He sets the datapad aside and swings his legs over the side of the bed to stand. His spine cracks in numerous places as he stretches it, yawning gently. “You know, for all he complains, Anakin is actually very good with children.”

Jango snorts. “And Boba is very good with a knife. I’m afraid I don’t see your point.”

“Of course, dear,” he sighs. “Now, shall we collect them before it’s Cody who decides he’s had enough?”

“He’d never leave enough evidence to know it was him.” Jango pushes away from the door to let Obi-Wan out, falling into step so close beside him that their arms brush from their shoulders all the way to the backs of their fingers with every step they take through the Temple halls.

“Oh, I know. How was your meeting?”

“Productive.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“We’ve managed to call an order to outlaw the stupid behaviour chips Tyrannus wanted. It’s not like they did anything for the little nips in the first place, half the trainers have the scars to show for all their hard work.”

“That sounds good. Anything else?”

Jango hums and curls the pads of two fingers around Obi-Wan’s. “They’re willing to pardon me under a number of things they called _extreme circumstances,_ including but not limited to ‘under threat by Sith or rogue darkside Force-users.’”

Obi-Wan raises his free hand to his beard to hide his smile. “Jango Fett, threatened by Sith? It’s a new one on me, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny. I’m just glad they’re not taking Boba away.”

“The Jedi aren’t like that,” Obi-Wan promises, suddenly solemn. “We would never take a child from their guardians without consent, or… other, explicitly extenuating circumstances.”

Jango laughs shortly and squeezes their fingers together. “Don’t laugh, but it isn’t really the Jedi I’m worried about.”

Ahead of them, from the wide and verdant entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, they hear a high, shrill screech followed by a tidal wave of a splash.

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs. 

“I wonder who that could be,” Jango adds sarcastically.

Indeed, it is not hard to find their wayward duo. A little ways down the nearest path, a dripping wet, freshly-knighted Anakin Skywalker streaks across a clearing of grass and scoops Boba Fett into his arms, barely breaking pace. Boba shrieks and tries again and again to squirm his way out of his hold, but is clearly unable to match Anakin’s Force-assisted reactions. Cody stands a little way off in the treeline observing the scene with his bucket under his arm and clear amusement set in the tilt of his lips; before anyone can think to stop them, Anakin dashes his way up a stack of large boulders and, with loud yells from the pair of them, takes a flying leap straight into the waterfall below.

The spray they kick up stretches tall enough to land at the toes of Obi-Wan’s boots.

Both break the surface gasping between snorts of laughter, splashing for the banks and shoving at each other. 

“Thank you for staying with them, Commander, you really didn’t have to,” Obi-Wan says as they come to a stop beside him. 

Cody straightens and salutes them, but can’t quite hide his smile. “It’s no hardship, General. And I know General Skywalker isn’t a child, but you mentioned you were worried about them getting along.”

Obi-Wan laughs gently and waves him down to ease. “He isn’t, though you wouldn’t know it by looking… Have they been like this the whole time?”

“When they weren’t bickering and pretending to fistfight? I’m afraid so.”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelps, having finally noticed their arrival.

“Hello, Anakin,” Obi-Wan greets. “Have you had fun?”

Anakin crosses his arms, steady rivulets of water trailing from every hem of his sodden robes. “Fun? With this tiny menace? As if _that_ were possible.”

“I am _not_ tiny!” Boba argues instantly. He kicks out a leg to catch Anakin in the shin and Anakin, for all his posturing, _allows it._

“Ow! What was that for, you little whelp?”

“You’re just stupid tall!”

“No, _you’re_ just a shortstack.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“I’m—!”

“Boba!” Jango interrupts. Boba turns to them immediately, eyes wide in innocence and looking quite the little angel. “Do you have any spare clothes? Or are you going to have to walk through this Temple soaking wet?”

Boba looks down at his feet and pouts. “Sorry, Buir.”

“Yes, well…” Obi-Wan says, amused. “Anakin, you really ought to know better by now.”

“Hey, he started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did _not.”_

_“Did. Too.”_

“That’s enough now,” Cody says. If he hadn’t seen it so many times before, the expression of pure consternation on Anakin’s face as they both fall silent would have Obi-Wan choking to muffle his laughter. “General, you asked me to remind you when it was time to meet with General Secura.”

“Oh yes!” Anakin says, brightening immediately. “Thank you, Cody. I guess I’ll see you later, Obi-Wan.”

“Have a good time, Anakin,” Obi-Wan calls after him. 

“Don’t get your ass handed to you too badly,” Jango adds.

“Get lost, Fett!”

“Buir, can we get ice cream?” Boba asks. “Please? Skywalker said I could.”

Jango reaches out to push the wet curls off his forehead and smiles. “Once you’ve dried off, then maybe.”

“Yes!” Boba cheers, and begins pulling Jango towards the main halls of the Temple. 

Obi-Wan turns to Cody with a warm look. “If you have the time, Cody, would you care to join us?”

“General, I’d be honoured,” Cody tells him, inclining his head and hefting his helmet more securely under his arm. 

“Oh, come now, we’re off duty. Please, call me Obi-Wan.”

Cody glances down for half a moment, and Obi-Wan can tell he’s fighting down another smile. “I’d be honoured to accompany you, Obi-Wan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally almost made Jesse ARC out of sync with the timeline because canon apparently no longer registers to me. ANYway I love the boys a lot and I think it's very sexy of anyone to feel the same

_“I’ll go with the brat,”_ Jango had said. _“Keep him out of trouble,”_ he’d said. Obi-Wan had nodded and kissed him goodbye when the room had cleared and sent them on their way.

Boy, what a fucking mess this is.

Jango isn’t officially GAR. Officially, he isn’t really _anyone,_ just a consultant who is inordinarily adherent to the hip of General Kenobi, disguised by his prevalence on the front lines. He’s permitted by the Jedi Council because they saw first-hand his usefulness on Geonosis and every battle thereafter, and he’s reluctantly endorsed by the Senate because of some very neatly crafted half-truths and the unignorable fact that he _is_ their Prime. So he’s a part-time consultant, part-time second-in-command.

Oh, and he sometimes comes with a child. Not now, though, and he’s glad of it.

“Why in all the lakes of Naboo are you so willing to throw your brothers under the speeder, kid?” he demands of the glaring teenager in front of him.

“I _trust_ the General’s orders,” the kid repeats stubbornly. 

Jango hums. “And what, tell me, has he done to prove he is worthy of such trust?”

“He’s a Jedi, sir.”

“Oh? And why does that prove anything?”

“…Well, he’s a _Jedi._ He’s the General.” 

Jango stares him down for a long, long moment. “Years ago, I led my people to their deaths at the hands of a whole strike force of Jedi. All of them followed, all of them died. We were hired to do a job. The Jedi showed that day that the last thing they are is infallible.” He pauses to take one, silent breath. “Tell me, kid, what do your older brothers say about General Krell?”

“They don’t like him,” Dogma answers immediately.

“And why is that?”

“Because his strategies are inefficient and costly and we’re—” he swallows. “Too many troops are dying.”

“And you think this is acceptable?”

Dogma struggles with the question. Jango has seen his brother, the one with the teardrop, whispering angrily and fervently with him between waves. He’s seen them in arguments with their ori’vode as their family falls around them like live target practise. He knows Dogma knows that on principles of efficiency to the Republic that no, this is not acceptable, and he _knows_ that Dogma knows ethically the whole caper is an atrocity. But he also knows what the problem is.

It’s him. Him and his complicity in the brainwashing of his rejected ad’ike.

Jango sighs and places a heavy hand on Dogma’s shoulder. The poor kid jumps, looking up with wide eyes that make Jango’s very soul ache with the reminder that _he really is just a child._

“This is going to be hard, I know, but one day you’re going to have to start trusting your instincts to form your own opinions and learn to think independently of the chain of command. It’s the only way to survive out here, and your brothers will appreciate you far more for it. A good soldier is loyal to his fellow man, just the same as he is loyal to the cause they both fight for.”

Dogma swallows and nods once, jerkily. 

Jango catches the movement in the shadows, somewhere over the kid’s shoulder. A sliver of 501st-blue flashing on a chest piece peeks out from around the next corner, and Jango looks up to catch the eye of the brother with a heavy sense of solemnity. He pats Dogma’s shoulder once more, sending him on his way and pointedly not allowing himself to watch the way Hardcase’s hands curl around his brother’s arms.

In the end, it’s Jango who has Krell at gunpoint before they can even finalise the plans for the air base.

“I’m sick of your slimy underhandedness, _hut’uun,”_ he growls. Nothing about him is regulation—Jango is _not_ GAR, he has his Westars, his armour, his helmet, everything—and _still_ Krell has the audacity to treat him like any other pawn of the army.

“You dare threaten Jedi?” Krell mocks. “A lone soldier? Unmodified and useless? I always knew Kenobi was a soft touch, but I didn’t know his delusions of grandeur were _contagious.”_

Jango doesn’t know how he retains the wherewithal to switch to stun before he fires. Doesn’t remember doing it at all, really. The shot’s bound to do some damage regardless, at such point-blank range.

“I killed six of your kind with my bare hands,” he tells Krell’s limp, unconscious form. “You jumped-up Force leeches’re never what you promise you are.” All of the troops around him are silent and gaping. He holsters his pistol and looks from the Captain (Cody’s favourite, his memory decides to remind him) to his ARC to the remaining men gathered around. 

“Well, what are you all waiting for?” he asks them. “We still need a functional plan of action.”

Captain Rex jolts suddenly back into action, knocking the rest out of their stupor as he does. Krell lies on the ground between all of them until someone—Jesse, he thinks—gathers the mind to call for someone _else_ to take the General into holding.

None of them watch as the body is dragged away, but all of them can see just how the tension bleeds from the shoulders of the COs.

Jango settles in to listen to the briefing and wonders just what kind of expression Obi-Wan might make when he explains this all later.

To make everything a hundred times better, Krell’s over-inflated ego has him confessing everything right to their faces with misplaced belief in his ability to escape their iron grips. Even the head field medic leaves the overflowing makeshift infirmary for a precious few moments to join the fray, expertly teaming up with Tup to sneak up on the bastard and jab him in the neck with a vicious hypospray.

Specifically, they manage to get the drop on the hulking dar’jetii by utilising both the distance and darkness of someplace far in the foliage above the scene. Jango is both startled and impressed, but Rex and Jesse seem to think nothing odd of their friends’ unorthodox tactics. He isn’t stupid enough to question the origins of strange methods when they offer results.

When they regroup with the 212th, Obi-Wan takes one look at the troops’ morale, Jango’s brutally set expression and the unconscious dar’jetii General in the brig and says, bluntly, “Please do _not_ tell me, I do not want to know.” 

He does tell him later, once they’ve successfully closed that painful leg of the campaign. Obi-Wan has to report Krell’s change in allegiance to the Council, after all, and they do have to come up with an explanation for the Senate. Jango could do without all the bullshit bureaucracy in his life.

“Thank you, my darling,” Obi-Wan tells him once they’re done, once he’s somehow ended up straddling his Jedi’s lap in the desk chair in their quarters. Obi-Wan’s nose is buried in his neck and he’s still, calm and breathing evenly like he does when he meditates. “I don’t think any of us know just how much worse things could have been if we’d let Knight Krell stay in command.”

Jango runs his hands over Obi-Wan’s cheeks and thinks of the relief that had rolled from the men when they’d finally been safe enough to relax. The way Rex had been pulled tightly to Cody’s chest and clung back just as hard. The way ARC Fives had leapt into celebration with the younger brothers. The way Ghost’s top scouts had leaned against each other and reeled in the other members of their Company until they’d ended up a messy pile on the floor.

He winds his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck and tugs him up to press warm kisses to his lips.

“I think I preferred it before you cut your hair,” he murmurs.

Obi-Wan huffs. “You just enjoyed being able to pull me around.”

Jango kisses him again, long and hard and grateful for a great many things he never thought he’d be in his life.

“Absolutely, cyare. Now, how long do we have before that call?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to today's short instalment of Jango "Take No Shit" Fett saving the galaxy from itself, ft. minor bullshit mando'a. Enjoy!

“What are  _ you _ being so melancholy about so early in the morning?” Jango asks as he trudges up to Cody’s shoulder. Cody turns and raises a brow, flashing him the holo on his pad. 

“Just checking my messages,” he says. “Last transmission we got from the five-oh-first before we entered hyperspace.”

Smiling up at them from the pad is a slightly-smudged selfie taken under the glaring lights of a Coruscanti medical bay. Fives is holding the camera, grinning like an absolute lunatic, while Tup and Kix in the background have their arms looped over the shoulders of a much healthier-looking, happy Echo, still recovering from Skako Minor and Anaxes on the bed between them.

Jango hums, but Cody thinks he might be smiling under the helmet. “Good to see them in good spirits.”

“Certainly, sir.”

He turns back to the pad, unsurprised when Jango stalks off towards the doors of the mess hall, and swipes to the next contact page.

> _ Furry vod’buir: If Gen. Koon makes one more reference to the adoption vows he’s gonna make this entire platoon cry _
> 
> _ Furry vod’buir: I am not equipped to deal with this bk I’m a CC not a kriffing child minder _
> 
> _ Furry vod’buir: Also if I’m still saved as furry in your comm you better change that shit right now or so help me Force _

Cody snickers and turns off his pad. They still have a few more cycles until they get to Utapau, and General Kenobi is expecting an inventory of arsenal within the next two shifts.

That is, he will be if Fett doesn’t succeed in firmly taking his mind off things by evening time.

Cody is busy disassembling droids, somehow having ended up stuck back-to-back with Jango, when the call comes through.

“Fett here,” Jango growls, clearly unimpressed with the realisation that it’s a redirect from the General’s personal frequency and too preoccupied to switch the transmission to internal speakers.

“Oh, it’s you,” says the unmistakable voice of General Skywalker.

“Look, kid, Obi-Wan’s in the thick of chasing after that saber-crazy tinman, he doesn’t have the time for—”

“Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord,” Skywalker says.

He’s met with absolute, dead silence.

“Hello? Fett? Fett, Jango, I need to—”

_ “Fuck,” _ Jango interrupts emphatically. Cody takes the head off the last droid nearby and straightens, signalling for he and the nearest squads to make the retreat back to the Command Centre. 

“Kid,” Jango is saying as they run, “I’m gonna need you to get the kriff out of there. Stay in the Temple or something, whatever those masters of yours tell you, you hear me? Do what they say, and don’t go near the kriffing Chancellor.”

“But they’ll  _ need _ me!” Skywalker protests, loudly enough that Cody can hear him a dozen feet away.

“Yeah, and you’ll be more useful to them both  _ alive _ and  _ on their side!” _ Jango snaps. “I may not have your Force magic, but I sure as hell have seen enough to know things! You’re unstable at the best of times, and the  _ last _ thing Obi-Wan would want is for you to go storming off to go and confront him on-your-kriffing- _ own!” _

“Excuse me! I am  _ more _ than capable of—”

“Skywalker,” Jango sighs. “Anakin. Please. Obi-Wan will be worried out of his mind as it is. This is a Sith  _ Lord. _ He’ll kill me if I say I let you go to your death. Hell,  _ I’d _ kill me. Do you want Boba to cry when something goes inevitably and horribly wrong? Rex? Your wayward jet’ika?”

Either Skywalker is silent or mumbling too quietly for Cody to hear, but the quiet is very telling.

“Stay put, savvy?” Jango says. “I’ll tell Obi-Wan as soon as I can. Just… Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, please? I’ll set Cody on you if you do.”

Cody coughs to smother a startled laugh. “Sir!”

“Fine,” Skywalker grumbles. “Just… Take care of Obi-Wan for me.”

Jango scoffs. “Who do you think we are? Fett, out.” He stabs the wrist comm and sighs when the connection cuts, rolling his shoulders back to stretch them out. “Well, you heard the kid,” he says to Cody’s men. “Finding General Kenobi and getting the tinnies the fuck out of here is priority one. Priority two, unseating that Sith shabuir with so much force he feels it in every afterlife there is.”

A battle cry rouses from the group. Cody grins beneath his bucket and pumps his fist in solidarity.

Not even an hour later does Cody receive another interstellar transmission from Coruscant. He’s safe at the Command Centre, still consolidating gains and losses and arguing tactics with Jango, so he straightens up and answers the call within moments of its first cheeping alert.

“Commander Cody,” says the dark robed figure who springs up from the projector. “The time has come.”

_ …For what? _

“Execute Order Sixty-Six.”

Cody stares at the figure for a moment. The Chancellor. The  _ Sith Lord. _ Beside him, Jango looks up with an air of absolute fury.

Cody blinks again at the holo. “Er, no?”

The Sith pauses. “Commander?” he asks dangerously.

“How  _ dare _ you,” Jango snarls, nearly elbowing Cody out of the way. “So that’s what your fucking chips were for you  _ bastard demagolka.” _

“Fett,” the thing growls.

“You’re not having them,” Jango snaps off, and cuts the transmission as if his word is final. At this rate, Cody thinks it may be.

He takes the projector from Cody’s hand and tucks it in his pocket. “Come on, let’s wrap this up and get back before he does any more damage.”

“Wait wait wait,” Cody stammers. “Chips? You said chips, for, for the order? Security Override Sixty-Six?”

Jango turns to face him, bucket to bucket. “The behaviour chips. It seems they had an override.”

“And… They’re all gone, right?”

“Every single one.”

Cody takes a long breath. Lets it out just as slowly. Jengo nods once, and Cody nods in return.

“Right!” he yells, turning back around to the nearest squad. His men look up at him expectantly, blasters at the ready. “Who’s ready to finish this?”

Cody knows exactly when Jango tells the General what’s happened, because he comes running up to Cody in a panic.

“He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” he flusters. “You’re okay? He’s not tried any Force attacks? Only I didn’t know he was  _ that _ powerful and I don’t know how far his reach is and I—”

“General, sir,” Cody interrupts. “We’re fine. All of us.”

General Kenobi sighs with relief and reaches out to take Cody by the shoulder. “You don’t know, Cody, just how pleased I am to hear that.”

Cody smiles and bows his head. “What’s the plan, General? Are we going back to Coruscant to assist General Skywalker?”

A collective shout rises from where Jango is probably winding up the troops—(“It’s called  _ rallying, _ Kot’ika,”)—and Jango turns, throwing out a jaunty, only partially-mocking salute. General Kenobi sighs and rolls his shoulders back, readying visibly for the next maneouver.

“Yes. Full throttle on the hyperdrive.  _ We _ have a Sith Lord to catch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me about these guys over on [tumblr!](https://silverxsakura.tumblr.com/)


End file.
